


Acolyte

by Thelittlescrimshaw



Series: The Doors of Perception [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Kylo Ren worships Rey, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:32:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/pseuds/Thelittlescrimshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is a yellow-eyed monster, and he slaughters in her name. Reylo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acolyte

**Author's Note:**

> New series for worshippy smut where Kylo Ren is a devoted monster. Plot what plot, character-heavy, and p much smutty angst.

He is a yellowed-eyed monster, and he slaughters in her name.

He would do much more, but this is all she demands – penance, she says, for his sins. In exchange she keeps his existence a secret, holds his life in her hands.  

He would build effigies in her name, if only she would allow him.

But that is not what she wants.

He comes home to her, back to their temple in the forest planet. There is old magic there, an ancient Force that predates the Dark and the Light. Here, she says, he can heal. They both can heal.

The wars have damaged them both; he’d watched her succumb to the Dark Side, had watched rapturously as her eyes had gone from brown to yellow as she killed his former Master. And to her will he bowed, but she refused him.

She always refuses him.

So he’d followed her, hot on her heels. Chased her across star systems until she had no choice but to face him.

He looked into her eyes – brown again – and saw himself.

He within him, Rey saw herself.

He would deify her, erect temples to her, carve her form into marble. But that is not what she wants.

Kylo Ren is always trying to figure out what she wants.

He is tired, deep down in his bones, but for her…

For her, he would give anything.

* * *

He returns to her bedchamber late that night. He moves silently, stealthily, so secretive for such a large man who has a whirlwind of a psyche. That is what she senses – the tumultuous tempest inside of him – before she  _sees him,_ all that black blending in with the dark.

His arms are bare, the alabaster of his skin almost glowing in such a contrast. Rey stands and walks over to him; Kylo Ren falls to his knees, bowing his head before her. Even bowing in front of her, he is a mountain of a man.

Rey lifts his chin up and brushes the hair out of his eyes. She does not know how this ritual started, or why she encourages it; it is easy to forget logic when he presses a kiss to the apex of her thighs.

“I am yours,” he murmurs, and presses another, more insistent, kiss against her.

Rey puts a hand on his shoulder – and oh, does he dwarf her – and motions for him to rise. He looms over her, dark hair framing yellow eyes. Rey stands on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on his mouth, laying a hand on his chest for balance. His hand comes and grips her wrist, presses her hand closer to him. His other hand rests on her waist with as much vigor.

His lips, soft and warm, remain pliant beneath hers.

Rey presses herself closer to him, kissing his jawline and down his neck. His hands move to her bottom and he lifts her, quickly remedying the height difference.

Rey wraps her legs around his core and kisses him deeper, and – finally – he responds in kind.

_(And that’s the thing about him, isn’t it? He’s a pent-up storm, waiting for release, waiting for her to_ tell him _he can release -)_

But the thought is cut short. Kylo is a sensual kisser, a generous lover, ever-present and ever-attentive. He will notice if Rey’s mind is wandering.

Rey pulls away and nips at his neck. He chuckles, the sound starting deep in his chest.

“You can do better than that,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I’ve taught you better.”

A thrill runs through Rey. She draws the flesh of his neck between her teeth, and he groans. In two swift steps he’s at the edge of the bed, and he sinks to it with practiced ease, sitting so Rey is in his lap. She can feel his arousal pressing into her thigh; heat pools in her core, and suddenly the clothes he’s wearing are _too much._

Rey slides her hands under his shirt, relishing the smooth, warm skin underneath. She hikes it up and grinds against him and he sighs, helps her take the shirt off.

His core is thick, corded in muscle. This man is a walking powerhouse, a testament to the Skywalker line. Rey kisses from his neck down to his sternum, leaving a lovebites in her wake, sinking her teeth into the meat of his chest.

His hands are firmly under her sleeping shirt, already stroking her breasts.

He is a monster, but he handles her with unbearable gentleness. Rey removes her shirt and sits completely naked before him, burning under his gaze.

_(No matter how many times she sits before him, she will not get used to the way he regards her – like a divine being, like a goddess, like someone worthy of the stars.)_

She straddles him and guides him onto his back – and abruptly she finds their positions flipped, and he is on top of her. His shoulders are looming, his hands are by her head, and his eyes gleam with desire. He pins her wrists above her head with one passive hand and bends his head and kisses her deeply, sensually, working his tongue in her mouth and eliciting sighs. He kisses down her neck, onto her breasts, his mouth hot against her puckered nipples. He drags the flat of his tongue over the center of her breast and Rey lets out a pathetic, mewling sound as he laves at her nipple, the heat from his mouth, the sensation, making her center throb with want.

She’s panting now, chest heaving. He traces a finger over her ribs, across a hipbone, along her sex. Rey whimpers.

“Shhhh,” he says, parting her folds and dragging a finger down the slit in her sex. A corner of his mouth turns up when he finds proof of her arousal. “So wet already,” he croons. He leans down and kisses her temple, grins wickedly. “And I’m not even started.”

He slips his fingers inside of her, brushing against the spot he knows she loves; Rey keens as he pumps his fingers inside of her, at the sex-slick sound of his finger in her core. She comes with a cry as her climax wracks her body, and he leans down to kiss her in the aftermath. When he draws away, it is with such tenderness that something inside of Rey’s heart cries out with a pang.

Rey lies on her back, panting, as she tries to regain control of her limbs. Her head feels heavy, her arms like lead, and she knows – sure as she knows anything – that by the time she sits up, he will be gone. He will disappear into the darkness like a specter, only to return the next night, and the next, until one day – and Rey hopes that day will come soon – he stays.

But until that day comes, she will watch him as he leaves. 

**Author's Note:**

> Concrit welcomed.


End file.
